The Necessity of Newspaper
by DaNextDarkLord
Summary: Mike is officially fired from Freddy Fazbear's. With only one week left to work and a whole lot of beer, he decides it's his turn to record a message or two. After all, it's not like they can fire him twice. (Rated for language and drug references).
1. Chapter 1

**Rated for language and drug references.**

 **FNAF courtesy of Scott Cawthon.**

* * *

Night 1

"Yo, bitch. Yeah, this is just a tradition thing, recording messages for the newbies or whatever. So usually that phone guy would do this for you, but he's not around. Never did get that guy's name. Anyway the management is fucking firing me or whatever. Only have a few more days to work. Apparently I "can't handle" the "pressure" of the night shift. This is the last thing I have to do before I'm outta here.

Okay, reading the script now. Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a magical place for kids and grownups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. That's not the only fucking thing that comes to life, let me tell you. Right, Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person, etcetera etcetera, if they fuck you up we'll file a report once the blood's been cleaned up.

Sounds bad, but at least you'll be prepared. You think I got told this? Had to deal with some shit, man. Now, you're supposed to "show the characters some respect", little kids love 'em. From one security guard to another, forget that shit. They act like bitches, they die like bitches.

You're probably a bit confused now, I know I was. I'm supposed to tell you that they're left in a free roaming mode at night. Means they're moving around, and God help ya if they get into the office. One of 'em bit someone – ah, wait, sorry mate. I'm not supposed to tell you that. Just forget it, okay? I know management's listening to this.

So if they do get into the office, which I'm not saying they will, _Gary_ , they'll think you're an endoskeleton and shove your ass into a suit. Not that they do that to the bare endoskeleton sitting out on the table or anything… There's wires and metal shit inside the suits, so you're probably dead if you end up in there.

I know you're thinking they should've told you this before, but hey. We've all been there. Take it to HR – hah, like this trash heap has a HR department. Oh, and open those doors. I know you've got 'em closed. Keep the power levels up, alright? So, don't die, and remember the therapy bills are _not_ included in your insurance plan!"

* * *

Night 2

"Damn, newbie, you made it. Don't get cocky, night one is easy. Bet Bonnie didn't even show up. The sons of bitches get more active later in the week, so maybe give those cameras a look while I'm talking. Probably noticed Freddy Fazbitch up there, eh? He doesn't move much but when he does you're basically fucked. Hey, as if you needed any more motivation not to run out of power, but here it is – you lose power, Fazbitch shows up and watches you for a bit before he kills you. Fucking perve.

I'm supposed to tell you about those lights, too. Honestly they don't do shit unless something's at your door, and then you've got maybe two seconds to shut 'em. They do light up your blind spots, though, because the sadistic fucker who designed the office decided he needed blast doors but blind spots? Nah, they're totally fine! I hopeyou're hearing this _, Gary_.If anyone needs to be fired, it's that guy. Oh, but there's _totally_ no danger if you don't manage to shut the doors, not at _all."_

Last thing before I go – check Pirate Cove occasionally. Bitch in there doesn't like the cameras. Ya don't watch him, he'll be at your door like a girl scout from hell before you get your ass out of that chair. Check him too much, and he'll still get all up in your face. Like a chick, you know? Can't win. By the way, don't leave the office. Apparently that's against the code of conduct, or whatever. And, you know, killer animatronics. Break a fucking leg, man."

* * *

Night 3

"Heeyyyyyyy. Surprised you lasted this long. Robots put off by your aura of desperation and loneliness? If you make it through the week, come join the ex-night watch group. Get together on the weekends, have some beers, it's fun. And we get some fantastic discounts on therapy _and_ prosthetic limbs.

Shit will be getting real tonight. Power doesn't seem to go as far once you get later into the week… management's probably too cheap to pay their whole electric bill. The guy that did this for me, he gave me some advice. If you want to avoid getting caught just play dead. Heh, might even get some treats. Anyway, you might get a metal endoskeleton shoved up your ass if they think you're another suit so it might not be the best idea in the world. I've heard it does work if the power goes out, though. If Freddy's playing that creepy-ass song, you just don't move. Might buy you a few seconds. Only worth it if you're close to the end of your shift, though. He may be dumb enough to wait a few extra seconds but he won't wait all night.

Good luck, anyway. Just one more thing. If Gary is listening to this, I totally did not hide a massive bag of weed underneath the desk. There is definitely not some left, because I never got high during my shifts, _Gary_ , so you're… not welcome to have what's… not left. Get it? Happens in the office, stays in the office, bro."

* * *

Night 4

"Good luck tonight. I heard the last guy die on my fourth night, you know. The one before me. And let me tell you, that was one freaky recording to listen to. Messed me up for days. He did say something about checking in the suits in the back room, but I was in a bit of a hurry to get home, you know? Reckon management would've done something by now anyway. Filed the report, at least. Fuck, I hope they power clean those suits before they use 'em. Maybe that's why the robots smell like death. I always figured it was just little kids, putting their greasy hands everywhere. You ever sponged pizza sauce off fake fur? Nothing wrong with giving a bath to a bunny but I always figured that if it happened it'd be a Playboy one.

Hey, there's just one more thing that you might wanna know about. It might be real, I don't know. Guess I could've just been tripping something crazy. Might have been the hallucinations, which incidentally are supposed to go away about five years after you leave. Um, so this gold bear sometimes shows up. He's like a pimped out version of Fazbitch. Just look at the security monitor and he'll go away. Uh, don't just stare at him though, he doesn't like it. Yeah, and he can come in even if the doors are closed. So you're probably gonna see him at some point. I think he likes messing with the new guys.

I'll shut up now. Don't want you ending up like that phone guy, do we?"

* * *

Night 5

"Fifth night, damn. I remember my fifth night. Bonnie and Chica at the doors, Foxy nearly out of the Cove and Fazbitch doing whatever the fuck he does when he's not being a pervert. I swear, I half expect to him to be there watching me changing in the locker room. For all I know, he could be.

Don't have a lot to say tonight, except that you _have_ to get a pizza for your next shift. It's pretty good, if you ignore the whole feeling of death and despair you get from being here long enough to consume it. Should probably try some coffee too, but it makes me need to piss every five minutes and do you see a toilet in here? Uh, yeah, maybe try to avoid the right back corner unless you need to go, man. Should have told you that earlier. Just, uh, put a little newspaper down, try not to wreck the carpet. But hey, that's what you get for working minimum wage at the place where children's dreams go to die."

* * *

Night 6

"Hey! Sixth night, woo! Last night before I'm outta here! I am _so_ not drunk right now, _Gary_. Hope you're still alive, it'd be pretty fucked up if I was leaving these messages for a fur suit stuffed full of meat. Man, that's kind of messing with my head now. Like, I don't even know who you are, you know? Management thinks they can fucking fire me… bitches should remember to take the spare set of keys next time. Should I even be here? Fucked if I know. You know what, you deserve to know, even if you're just a bloody mess with some eyeballs popping out. _You can change the AIs on the robots._ Try it before you start your shift tomorrow, yeah? Just, like, don't tell Gary. He's such a buzzkill. Fuck Gary, man."

* * *

Night 7

"Hello, this is Gary from the HR department. Congratulations on your seventh night working at Freddy Fazbears! Not that there would be any reason for you to not make it to your seventh night, of course… Just a courtesy recording to let you know there won't be any more messages left for you from our previous employee. His services have now been terminated. Please, disregard anything he might have told you. We weren't aware of his… unstable state. We do apologise for that and hope you choose to continue your employment here at Freddy Fazbear's. The most important thing to remember is to have fun! And, once again, Fazbear Entertainment does not assume liability in the event of any injury sustained by an employee in the workplace, nor does your insurance plan cover certain services, such as, oh, say, therapy bills, for example. Have a good night!"


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the fanfiction equivalent of walking into class fifteen minutes late with Starbucks only it's like two years and there's Baileys in the coffee.**

 **The phone calls got HEAVY in this game. So, I combined nights 5 and 6 because it's kind of hard to make that shit funny.**

 **Night 1**

"Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? Woah, there goes the static. Hope that didn't burn out your eardrums, you're gonna need 'em. Anyway, welcome to the summer from hell! If you're hearing this, you're dumb or desperate enough to take a job at the _new_ and _improved_ Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. My job is to provide _guidance_ and _support_ through this _exciting time_ in your new career in the custodial arts. Seriously kid, you should just be a trash collector. No student loans, and twice the salary you get at this shit heap? Sign me the fuck up.

Now, you may have heard some bad things about the old location. Kinda let that place go to the dogs, y'know? But Fazbear Entertainment's all about the kiddies now. Fun, fun, fun! And, uh, hang on… where was that page… "new and improved protocols held to the highest and most rigid occupational health and safety standards".

Hah, I got something _rigid_ for ya…

Um. Anyway. We've replaced all the robots. Spent a fortune on 'em, too. They blew enough cash for a fifteen-hooker orgy on those things. Including chocolate sauce. I know, because I crunched the numbers. Suggested it for the staff, you know, to boost morale? Management wasn't pleased.

So instead of that, they hooked them up to some criminal database. The things can spot a kiddie-fiddler at fifty feet. Don't know if they got those bitchin' laser eyes, though. Like the Terminator. The Predator? …E.T.? Uh, yeah. I worked there for a week then packed it in. They moved me to the day shift. Not 'cause I couldn't handle it or nothin', but when that creepy heap of scrap metal comes a'knockin'… ruining all my nice pants, if you know what I mean. Just… you don't know true, pants-shitting terror until a robot wearing a skinned teddy bear as a suit is threatening to fist you in the eye socket.

Uh… apparently they're working on that. It's some kind of 'night mode' failure. They're looking for an audience. Attention whores. There's this music box you can wind up remotely, it keeps them distracted. Doesn't work too long, though. And the music's terrible. Would it kill them to get a little, I dunno, Springsteen? Took it up with HR but those pricks can barely wipe their own—

Yeah, alright! I've got the fucking script right—

Jesus, not a criminal offense.

Alright, where was I? Oh, yeah. If they do get into the office, you need to hide. Don't go under the desk though, the creepy little ones can still get you. There's an old Freddy head. Pop it on, and they'll think you're one of them. As much as those faux-fur scrap heaps can think, anyway. Just try not to puke in it, alright? It only gets cleaned so many times. Yeah.

On that note, if you've got a few brats or some kinda spouse, you might wanna think about funeral insurance. I'm not implying anything, just… consider it. Might come in handy.

Oh, and don't get smart and try to close the doors. In case you didn't notice, there aren't any! You get a flashlight, though. Budget cuts, man. Budget. Cuts. When they remodel this place they'd better put in blast doors.

At least they didn't skimp on the power bill, but with gas prices the way they are…

Well, good luck! You'll hear from me again tomorrow night, assuming you haven't been brutally dismembered. Later!"

 **Night 2**

"Yo! You made it! Don't get too comfortable, now. You're another night closer to the sweet embrace of death at the pizza-stained paws of a 'roid rage Muppet Baby. Speaking of weird stains, have you noticed the crusty old bastards in the back room? 'Course you have, unless you've been neglecting those cameras. Well, they're the old robots. Last year's model. They're from the first restaurant, back when men were men and kids could handle getting sung 'Happy Birthday' to while lookin' into the cold, dead eyes of Satan's teddy bear.

Management just rips 'em out for parts now. S'posed to be fixed up, but they were too damn ugly to bother. Everything's all cutesy now, in case little Timmy has a nightmare, starts seeing Freddy under the bed. This place is turning into some kinda technicolour Lisa Frank nightmare. Kinda sad, really. The old ones had… personality. Uh, you know. In the sense that a deranged, soulless serial killer has personality. But I'd rather not get torn to shreds by something outta a Saturday morning cartoon. Emasculating, y'know?

Oh, and the old ones stink. Real bad. If they're rottin' from the inside out like management says they are, they shouldn't be able to walk around—but guess what?

That head trick should work on them, too. 'Cept Foxy, that shifty bastard. He's always been a little… smarter. Sonuvabitch gives me the creeps. Can use your flashlight against him, though. Now, don't bash his face in with it. Did that one time… Not worth it. At least they didn't bother fixing him. Do you think my paycheck could cover that?

Uh, yeah. Flash him. With the light! It causes some kind of factory reset in all the older models. Can you imagine the factory that would make these things? I always kinda thought they'd sprung fully formed outta the bowels of the Earth somewhere.

And don't forget the music box. It's the only thing keeping you from being that puppet's bitch. Sweet dreams!"

 **Night 3**

"Hey! You're not doing too bad, fresh meat. Hearing that music in your head yet? It doesn't go away. But hey, it beats the visual hallucinations.

Did that fox show up? Creepy little bugger, ain't he? They redesigned him too. Only, uh, did a little change. I don't get it, man. Stuck some lipstick and fake eyelashes on a fox like they wanted to make it fuckable. Anyway, he got one hell of a makeover and they stuck him in with the kiddies.

Kids' Cove… gate to hell, man. Drive you to a vasectomy. Damn kids can't keep their hands to themselves. We were putting that fox back together every night. Couldn't be bothered anymore, pitched it to management as an attraction. Kids can have some fun and learn a trade. Call her the Mangle now. Still creepy as fuck even in a mess of parts. Uh… guess that's it. Still got some time to kill.

Hm…

Oh, yeah. You should probably start bringing replacement batteries with you. Smuggle them in your pockets or something. I don't know if you've met Balloon Boy yet, but the batteries in your flashlight tend to disappear when that low-rent Munchkin is around. I drop-kicked that thing all the way across the office once. I can still see it. Flying through the air, limbs flailing, screaming all the way…

Hey, have you heard any of those rumours 'bout this place yet? Shit's wild. I mean, none of it's true. Officially. Anyway, I'm on from opening to closing and I ain't seen nothing but some serious violations of my basic human rights. Ten percent employee discount _my ass_. And we gotta pay for that shitty instant coffee. Speaking of, I gotta piss. Good luck!"

 **Night 4**

"You're doing alright, man. Have a shot, on me. Uh, yeah. Left my Jack under the desk this afternoon. Trying to spice things up, you know? Irish coffee. Don't try it, I nearly puked up my spleen. Then again, that happens with the coffee normally. Should really bring your own, but who can afford that?

Uh, yeah. Someone had better either drink it or sneak it out in their ass or something, what with all those cops sniffing around. Some kind of investigation. Um, they don't tell us nothing, but I think we're going dark for a few days. Just try not to die and I'll keep ya posted.

And, um, don't worry about the cameras so much tonight. Music box needs doin', but you don't want to be looking for the furry bastards all night in case they sneak up on you. Dirty fighters. They're acting weird, too. I reckon someone's got in and fucked with them. Wonder if we could do that? Make 'em back the fuck off. They have to be customisable, right?

Anyway, don't look them in the eyes. I don't know why you would…

They're acting all nice to the kids, but givin' us all death-glares when they get us alone. It's like they've married your ex-wife. Next thing you know, your kid will be calling them Daddy and asking to come here for Christmas.

Uh, sorry. It's been a long day.

I have a confession to make. Might as well do it now, in case I get fired or murdered or something. These aren't the calls you're supposed to be getting. The phone guy does 'em, usually. I don't know if you're getting his or not. They told me to stop after the first one, said I was getting a little too _personal_. But I know you're not going to be told this shit. I mean, you can always choose not to listen, but hey, it's your funeral."

 **Night 5**

"You made it! Night five… Well, you've nearly beaten my record.

Anyway, be careful tonight. We're officially on lockdown. No one allowed in or out, which does not bode well for that lunch I ordered.

It's from that Chinese place down the road. You can't miss it. Only place that serves food that doesn't look like it came out of a dumpster.

It's better than the pizza here, anyway. They really should change that recipe. I don't know, I'm not a chef, but tomato sauce needs a little sugar in it. Maybe some basil. Oregano.

Oh yeah, the lockdown. Something to do with a previous employee. I don't know what happened, but you'll get his job. Lucky bastard. You just gotta hang out one more night. There's some party on the weekend, kid's birthday. You'll get to do that one too. Fun, fun, fun.

Uh, no one's replacing your shift yet. I think it's gonna be that one guy. Fucking stupid, he's gonna get—

Okay, well, I gotta get out of here. Don't leave, it's not safe. Unless you got a AK-47 stuffed inside your uniform in which case take care because these pants are _tight_.

Maybe I'll see you around. Not here, though, I'm _out_ soon as I get my last paycheck.

I reckon I should start some kind of group. Ex-night watch, or something. Bet we could get some deals on therapy, make up for those so-called benefits. Well, take care of the brat's party. Guess I'll see you in the welfare line."


End file.
